Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/23



A strife, won hardly.—Where is he, whose heart Lies bare, thro' all its foldings, to the gaze Of mortal eye?—If vengeance wait the foe, Or fate th' oppressor, 'tis in depths conceal'd Beneath a smiling surface.—Youth! I say Keep thy soul down!—Put on a mask!—'tis worn Alike by power and weakness, and the smooth And specious intercourse of life requires Its aid in every scene.

Away, dissembler! Life hath its high and its ignoble tasks, Fitted to every nature. Will the free And royal eagle stoop to learn the arts By which the serpent wins his spell-bound prey? It is because I will not clothe myself- In a vile garb of coward semblances, That now, e'en now, I struggle with my heart, To bid what most I love a long farewell, And seek my country on some distant shore, Where such things are unknown!

(exultingly.)Why, this is joy! After long conflict with the doubts and fears, And the poor subtleties of meaner minds, To meet a spirit, whose bold elastic wing Oppression hath not crush'd.—High-hearted youth! Thy father, should his footsteps e'er again Visit these shores—

My father! what of him? Speak! was he known to thee?

In distant lands